One of the symptoms of Grumpy Old Manness is that you start to find socialising a bit of an effort. But, it is still an effort worth making. Not socialising at all is worse even that quite bad socialising, and quite bad socialising can usually be improved greatly ... if I make the effort.

My Dad was also like this. He also, as he got older, had to make a conscious effort to have a good time in company. In the hours before a social effort was required, he tended to be particularly unsociable. During that time, he was carefully charging up his limited reserves of bonhomie, and was determined not to eat into any of those reserves beforehand. Those in his vicinity as such times knew to keep clear of him, or if near him to expect a wall of grumpiness.

I greatly enjoyed the last three or four bits of socialising I have done. Before each, I very deliberately told myself to ... make the effort. And it worked. I don’t mean that I sparkled in the eyes of others, although that’s not impossible also. I merely mean that I had a good time. I learned things. Others sparkled in my eyes.

Why make the effort of being there, if you don’t then make the effort (if further effort is needed) to enjoy being there, and as a result instead just sit there waiting for it to end? That’s no way to live.

Good God, it gets harder? I think I must have been a Grumpy Old Man since roughly the age of six.

Posted by Sam Duncan on 14 June 2010

Ah. I see I didn’t describe the situation properly. What gets harder is not the technique of socialising. The good news is that that gets easier. You acquire more and more tricks as you get older. Plus, you gravitate more and more to congenial company, where your natural mode of operation fits.

What I find gets harder is cranking up the desire to apply my improving socialising technique.